Born to Ascension: Prologue to Dangerous Games
by the Black Rose
Summary: Heero and Trowa are 2 boys who will become 2 men on the same wrong side of the law, with only 1 ticket to redemption... Relena sniffed and wiped the tears away. She glanced up at her dad before stepping close to Heero. 'I love you.'


Born to Ascension: Prologue to Dangerous Games

By J. Rose Black (aka the Black Rose)

AN: No, your eyes are not playing tricks on you. It's the prologue to the first Dangerous Games.  And before you ask, no, this information is not stuff I had to "make up" in order to get part 2 to work.  This hit me one weekend out of the blue for no particular reason at all. As, I guess, sometimes things do.  Thank you in advance for reading it.   Love, Rose

**Downtown Baltimore, Maryland**

**December 7, 1980**

Rain splashed against Trowa's shoes and ankles.  It was cold and wet; the water had seeped in through the worn spots of leather to chill and wrinkle his feet.  He clutched the carton of milk close as he ran.  He didn't want to spill it since it was the first time his mom had trusted him to go to the store on his own.  He would hand her the milk and she would smile at him and ruffle his hair, then tell him how proud she was of her 'little man'.  He darted across the street and continued down the lane.

The door was open when he arrived.  But, the door was never left open because thieves and vandals could get in.

_"Trowa, lock the door when you go out.  We gave you a key.  You don't want the thieves and vandals to come in and steal your toys, do you?"_

He frowned and pushed the door aside.  "Mom?"  He started to step forward, when he heard a noise.  He stopped and listened, but it was just the rain hitting the gutter.  "Mom?"  He stepped inside.

The milk fell to the floor.

"Father?"  Trowa took another step.  His mother was lying on the kitchen tile, his father bent over her and crying.  His head jerked up when Trowa called his name.

"Father?"

His father didn't speak.  He stood up and wiped his hand over his face.  Didn't he always say that boys don't cry?  Why was he crying, now?  

Trowa looked up at his dad, and called his name again.  His mom wasn't moving, and she never lay down on the kitchen floor.  Maybe she was just tired, and wanted a nap.... But shouldn't father wake her like he woke Trowa when he fell asleep in front of the television, and tell her to go to bed?

He took another step forward.  "Mom..."

At the word, his father looked down, more tears falling from his eyes.  "Be a good boy, Trowa," his voice cracked when he spoke.  It made the eight-year old tremble.  His father crossed the room with giant-sized steps and went out into the rain.  

"Father?"  Trowa followed after him.  Where was he going?  Was he coming back?  "Father?"  A strange car pulled up at the end of the alley.  The door opened and his father started to crawl inside.  His head turned and he looked at his son; his tears mixed with the rain.  

"Let's go, Bloom, in the car."

The next instant, the strange car swallowed his father and drove away.

"Father?"  Trowa stumbled after him.  He splashed through the ankle-high water to the edge of the street, his body numb from the cold.  The small boy searched the traffic for the car his father was riding inside, but he couldn't see where it had gone.  

A police car stopped in the alleyway behind him; an officer got out. Relief flooded Trowa's seven-year-old body. The police would help him.

"Mr. Policeman, sir, there's something wrong with my mom! And my dad... Please!"  He tugged on the man's sleeve.  He didn't know what was going on, but he couldn't get his father back or his mom off the floor by himself.  Policemen were supposed to help, right?

"Get lost, kid.  This is an investigation."

"Please!  My mom, she won't get up.  And my dad, he just got in a car... I don't know where he went."

"We're looking for someone, kid.  Go home, it's not safe out here, and you'll catch cold."

"Who are you looking for, mister?"

"His name is Quinze Barton.  He's a wanted criminal.  We got a tip off he was in this area, and we intend to find him.  Go home, kid, and lock the doors." The officer turned and walked down the alley.  More police cars arrived with more policemen.  Trowa watched with tears in his eyes as they swarmed through the alley, peering in dark corners and knocking on doors.  

Looking for someone... Maybe if he could find who they were looking for, then the policeman would help his mom. He ran back towards his house, twisting and turning through the maze of alleys to his favorite hiding place whenever he and Vinny and J.T. would play hide and seek. They didn't know about it.  Only Trowa had found the secret alcove between the brick and cement buildings.

***********************************************

**Richmond, Virginia**

**December 7, 1980**

Heero flipped the channel on the television looking for more cartoons.

"And just one year into his third term, Mayor Michael Darlian is giving up his office and dispelling rumors of running for governor in order to take an ambassadorship in the new Reagan administration. We'll go live to city hall."

"Tern that off!" Heero's mother shouted from the kitchen.  He wasn't really sure what they were talking about on the television anyway.  There were a bunch of adults and they sounded serious.  A bunch of adults and some squirming, crying little girl.

"...Mayor Darlian recently adopted the surviving daughter of the famed Peacecraft family when her parents died in a jetliner crash last year."

"Ah said, tern that shit off!" His mother stormed out of the kitchen and chucked a beer bottle across the room.  Heero ducked and it crashed into the wall behind him, showering the floor with bits of glass.  His mom was angry, again.  He got up to turn the TV off, but stepped on a piece of glass.  It sliced his foot, and pain shot through his leg. He cried out.

"Shut up! I cain't even hear mysef think with all this God-damned noise."

The six year old shut his eyes against the pain, but couldn't stop the tears.  He didn't know his brother had entered the room until he heard him speak.

"You're the one making the noise."

"Odin, tell yer brother to tern off the TV.  Ah'm tryin to sort out mah inventory."

"You're disgusting."

"Don't talk that way ta me.  Ah'm yer mother."

"Come on, Heero, let's get your cut cleaned up.  I'll put a Band-Aid on it."

Heero sniffled and nodded.  

"And after we get ya a bandaid, I'll take ya to go get a lolli from the store."

Heero managed a watery smile for his brother.  He limped towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. Odin didn't follow. 

"It's your fault he got hurt.  What kind of mother are you?"

"Watch yer mouth."

"You sell that stuff now.  Not just you anymore, but that crap."

"As long as Ah'm jus sellin' it and not doin' it, it's fine."

"You're a whore! You chased off dad!  It's your fault he left, and look at you!  You're so involved with yourself, you don't even take care of us.  It's your fault Heero cut himself, and what do you do? You yell at him! Just like you yelled at dad until he left us!"

"Yer fahther left because he's a damn coward."

"No, he's not a coward.  He loved us.  He'll come back for us.  But not if you're still here!"

"What? What're ya doin?  Odin, let go! LET GO!  NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!  I don't want...."

Heero rocked himself back and forth, watching the drops of blood collect on the cement floor of the bathroom under his injured foot.  He sniffed and felt more hot tears work their way down his cheeks.  Why did his mom have to be angry all the time?  When was their dad going to come back?  

Odin pushed open the door, a strange smile on his face.  "Heya little brother.  Let's get that cleaned up."  His older brother held out a hand.  

Heero flinched away.  "Where's mom?"

Grey eyes darkened.  "She's in the kitchen.  I think she'll be feeling better in a little while, but I promise you, Heero.  She's not going to hurt you any more."

******************************************************

**Downtown Baltimore, Maryland**

**December 7, 1980**

Quinze smirked and chewed the end of his cigarette.  Those pathetic cops may have him trapped, but they'd be lucky if they found this place.  He could even smoke and they couldn't see it, protected as he was by the west side of the three-story town home.  Even if that accountant, Bloom, did manage to tip them off, they'd never think to look behind-

Splash splish splash.  Footsteps sounded nearby.  Quinze pricked up his ears to listen.  Splish splish.  They were small feet, not those of a uniform.  Some punk kid…

"Are you the one the policemen are looking for?"

Quinze held his breath.

"I can see you.  That's my hiding place.  I need the policeman to find you so he can help my mom and dad.  He's supposed to help me!  But he said he had to find you, and to go away."

"Isn't that just like them?" Quinze sneered.  "The police don't help unless you give them something in exchange."

"But-but I don't have anything!" Fresh tears spilled down cheeks pink from the cold. The fugitive shook his head.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying." The kid rubbed his eyes.  He had a stubborn chin, just like his father's.  __

_Damned rat._  "Then what's that water on your face?"

"Dad says boys don't cry."

"Sure they do."

_"P-p-please don't kill me!  I'll do anything." _

"They cry all the time.  Even your dad."

_"Not my family!  Please, I won't tell the police, I promise!" _

Quinze smirked.  "But I can help you out."

"You can?" Green eyes turned round.  The kid was gullible like his father, too.  Helping the kid was helping himself.

"Give your policeman this." He handed the boy his 'calling card'.  "Tell him I left it in your house, and he'll help you."

"He will?"

"Sure, kid.  But don't tell anyone you saw me here, or they'll find your hiding place.  If you do that for me, I promise ya, I'll repay the favor."

The boy turned the object over in his hand.  It was a bullet, a long, silver colored bullet with a rose carved into the side.  He glanced back at Quinze.

"Do you know where my father went?"

            "Hm." He grinned around his cigarette.  "You don't have a father, kid."

*********************************************************

**Richmond, VA**

**February, 1981**

Heero had a new coat thanks to the man and lady he and his brother were living with.  They wanted him to call them mom and dad, but they weren't his parents.  Odin said they would take care of them better than mom did.  That wouldn't be hard.

His brother had said their mom would be better.  She wasn't as mean all the time, but now she wanted to take that drug stuff she had been selling.  Odin said drugs were bad and that mom was bad for taking them and selling them.  Heero just wanted his dad back.

He went to the coat closet in the new school he had been attending for a couple of weeks now.  New clothes, new parents, new school. He had to take care of his new things, and he liked his new coat.  He opened the door to hang it up like the teacher had shown them.

A rustling noise caught his attention and the coats jumped.  He pushed them aside to reveal a little girl – one who was not in their class.  She had long, yellow hair and large blue eyes.  She was crying.  Heero didn't like her.

"You're not allowed in here."

She rubbed her eyes and stepped further back into the closet.

"Get out."

She sniffed and began to cry again.  "You're mean."

Heero blinked.

_"You're so damned mean to everyone! Why don't you shut up!"_

_"You're mean to him all the time.  It's not his fault dad left – it's yours."_

_"Mommy's mean."_

"I'm not mean."

"Okay." The little girl nodded and wiped her eyes.

"You're not s'pposed to be in the closet."

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"I don't know anyone."

"That's stupid."

"Would you be my friend?"

"No. I don't like girls."

She started crying again.  For some reason, Heero felt bad for making her cry.  He held out a hand.  "Okay.  But don't tell anyone.  I don't want people to think I like girls."

She smiled and took his hand.  Heero felt himself smile back.

**Two weeks later**

Heero colored his picture, scrubbing the blue crayon fast and hard over the paper.  The yellow-haired girl, her name was Relena, leaned over his shoulder and drew a red star. He glared at her, but she only smiled back and ruffled his hair.  He hated it when she messed up his hair.

"Don't."

"Why don't you smile?"

"I'm busy, and you're messing up my picture. There's not s'pposed to be a star there."

"Why not?" She drew another star.

He moved the page away from her and scowled.  She just smiled more brightly.  It was irritating. 

The door opened and her smile disappeared.  She looked like she was going to cry again.  "No."

"What?"

Tears trickled down her cheek.  She had already been told not to do that or he wouldn't be her friend anymore.

Their teacher, Mrs. Noventa called out from the front of the classroom.  "Relena, your dad's here to take you home."  A tall, brown-haired man in a suit walked in.  Heero instantly disliked him.

The girl grabbed his hand.  "I don't want to go."

The tall man smiled.  "Relena, honey, it's time to go.  Say goodbye to your friends."

"No.  I want Heero to go, too."

Heero clutched her hand tighter.  They were friends.  She couldn't leave.

"Relena, you know we can't do that.  He has to stay here with his family."

"Heero doesn't have a family.  He can go with us.  Please?"

"What?" Relena's dad turned to Mrs. Noventa. She smiled at Heero and then spoke to the man in a soft voice.

"Heero and his brother are foster children.  It's really a shame, Mr. Darlian.  He hardly speaks to anyone except Relena.  Those two have been inseparable since she came to our class."

"I'm really sorry. I wish there was something I could do.  But I'm going overseas and have already made arrangements for Relena to go with me."

Heero glared at the girl holding his hand.  "You're leaving."

"I don't want to.  But my dad says I have to."

"I don't want you to stay, anyway. Go away."

She started to cry again.  Heero crossed his arms and looked away.  "Stupid girl."

Relena sniffed and wiped the tears away.  She glanced up at her dad before stepping close to the boy and putting her arms around his shoulder for a hug.  "If I could, I'd stay with you."  She kissed his cheek.  "I love you."

Heero felt his cheeks burn as she turned and walked towards the door.  Duo Maxwell, the class menace, began to taunt him.

"Wooooo! Heero and Relena sittin in a tree--"

"Shut up, Duo," Heero snapped.

She stopped at the door and waved.  

And then she was gone.

***********************************************************

**Columbia, MD**

**February, 1981**

The police had come and gone.  His mother was taken away in a long black bag, and Trowa had attended the funeral a few days later.  He stood there, alone, listening to the priest read over her grave.  His father hadn't even come back to say goodbye.  

The boy had described the car, the men in the car, the man he met in the alley.  But the policemen hadn't found his dad.  They sent him to live with new parents.  They were okay, but Grace and John had lots of their own kids, and not enough to eat all the time.  He had wanted to go live with Vinny or J.T. and their parents – just until his dad came back.  But the policemen wouldn't let him.  

It had been two months, now.  And still, he couldn't stop remembering… His dad bending over his mom's body on the floor; climbing into the car; staring at him with tears in his eyes, before the dark vehicle consumed him and drove away.

_"Hm." The man with stringy gray hair bit the end of his cigarette with repulsive, yellow-stained teeth. "You don't have a father, kid."_

_"Be a good boy, Trowa," his father's voice cracked when he spoke.  He crossed the room and went out into the rain.  _

And somehow, Trowa knew.  He was never coming back.

*************************************************

From the desk of J. Rose Black

AN: There are times when I myself think I'll never make it through this entire series.  Especially considering the amount of work I've cut out for myself with the second 'installment' (DG2).  This prologue came to me one day, as things sometimes do, and so here it is.  There's another part I wrote that I'm going to tack onto the epilogue of the first 'installment' (DG1).  I don't really expect people to care at this point, but just as an FYI, I plan to give DG1 a bit of an overhaul one of these days, hopefully focusing more on a plot per se.  We'll see.  The story in my head is so much more than what currently exists.  I just feel ill-qualified to be the one to write it.  If you give up on me in the meantime, I completely understand.  I just wanted you to know that I haven't given up.  

Love,

Rose


End file.
